Two Years Gone
by SundayWinterChild
Summary: Takes place two years after events of the war and the MQ. The Dragonborn receives some news about someone very special to her. Stunned, she seeks to take solace from some time alone, but unexpectedly meets up with the one she's been missing over the last two years. Ulfric Stormcloak X OC


AN: This is the first bit of extended writing I've done in ages, so please forgive it for its roughness.

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><p>In the dim light of the rapidly dying day, Alessia slowly trudged through the mountains that dominated the landscape of Eastmarch. The journey here from Whiterun had been a slow affair and now that she was nearly to her destination, she could feel the weariness of the miles bearing down on her. Her muscles ached, her joints protested at every movement she made and the biting cold had settled into her very bones, making her feel heavy and clumsy.<p>

Naturally the journey could have been made easier in many ways if she had brought Vilkas along with her, but she had turned his offer down, telling him that as her second his presence would be required at Jorrvaskr in her absence. Vilkas had given her one of his trademark looks of bitter disapproval, but he knew it wouldn't sway her. In the time that had followed her triumph over Alduin, Vilkas had become very familiar with the Imperial's moods and he could tell from the look in her eyes that she was determined to go on her own. Gruffly swearing at her stubbornness, Vilkas dismissively waved her off, watching as she wrapped herself in her heavy cloak. Silently, however, he bid her farewell and once more quashed the voice of doubt and worry that would whisper to him when Alessia chose to venture out on her own.

Pushing through her exhaustion and the deepening gloom, Alessia finally found the cleft in the rock face that, unless someone knew what to look for, would otherwise go unnoticed. Once she squeezed past the narrow opening, Alessia found herself in a clearing that was dominated by a statue of Talos. The stone was pitted and weathered and patches of lichen clung to it making it clear that the shrine had been here for generations. Around the base of the statue were offerings of weapons, gold and flowers that had been placed there by other weary travellers in tribute to Skyrim's patron god.

Alessia shivered and drew near to the brazier whose fire was starting to die and added some logs to it from a nearby supply of firewood. A wistful smile played over her lips as she watched the flames tentatively lick at the new wood, testing it almost, before consuming it. Back in her earliest days in Skyrim she often wondered who kept the fires alight. Eventually Vilkas had told her that it was traditional in Skyrim that those who would visit a shrine would do their part to keep the flame as well.

Once the heat of the fire had chased away the worst of cold, Alessia returned to the shrine and momentarily bowed her head, centring her thoughts, before reaching into the pouch that hung at her side. From it she removed a flawless emerald and held it up to the firelight. It glittered, the fire caught within the gemstone made it look so alive. A heavy sigh escaped from Alessia and misted in the freezing air. She tightly clutched the stone in the palm of her hand before gingerly placing it on the altar.

"O Talos, man become god, hear my prayer," she said softly, her eyes fixed on the emerald that seemed to glow in the light of the fire. The sadness she'd felt over the last few days threatened to spill over and she could feel her eyes filling with tears.

It had been inevitable, really. She knew that one of these days...

"Talos, please guide Ulfric. Help him to hear your voice in the wind so that he may be the High King that Skyrim requires. May he be just, yet merciful. Let his reign be one of peace and prosperity and may war remain at bay. However should this not be the will of the Nine, help him be strong, fierce in battle, and Skyrim's staunchest protector."

Alessia's breath caught in her throat, however, and the tears finally did start to roll down her cheeks.

"Please grant him... happiness... and... and..."

Words failed Alessia.

The news from Windhelm had been sent to all the holds via courier, but with Skyrim's harsh landscape, it had taken the better part of the week for word to reach Whiterun.

Ulfric finally had an heir.

Alessia had, perhaps foolishly, fallen for Ulfric while helping fight the war against the Empire. She hadn't meant to, of course, but these things are so very rarely planned for. When she had first arrived at Windhelm the only desire she had was to take a measure of the man whom she'd met briefly at Helgen. The fact that she was an Imperial hadn't worked in her favour to begin with. There were many questions as to why she would want to join the fight for Skyrim's independence. Yet over time she had proven herself not only to Galmar, but to Ulfric.

Familiarity bred respect and eventually friendship between the Jarl of Windhelm and the Imperial, but there had been a sudden and unexpected shift from friendship to something more. The feeling had been mutual, but there was a war to be fought and won and Alessia understood completely Ulfric's need to remain focused on that and to see it through.

And it had been seen through, Alessia fighting beside Ulfric at the siege of Solitude, proud and triumphant – his Stormblade. It was after that, at the large celebration that took place at the Palace of the Kings, that she and Ulfric finally allowed themselves to indulge in what they had denied each other for so long.

In the afterglow of that evening, while the rest of the palace slept on, there were whispered promises and plans made. Alessia was hypnotized by Ulfric's emerald eyes and how they shone in the firelight. Her fingers lazily traced over old battle scars as she listened to him talk of High Kings and Queens and of leading Skyrim into a new glorious age. But there was still much to be done before either she or Ulfric could rest on their laurels.

Indeed, the very next morning, long before Ulfric awoke, Alessia had slipped from his bed, determined that the next time they met there would be nothing standing in their way, no other commitments.

But the Nine seemed to have other plans.

Upon Alessia's triumph over Alduin, she returned to High Hrothgar pushed beyond her limits and completely exhausted. For days she did little but sleep and only ate the most meagre of meals upon Arngeir's insistence. The Greybeard had become concerned over the listlessness and melancholy that seemed to have overtaken the Dovahkiin, but Alessia refused to speak of what she had experienced. After a week she had bid the Greybeards farewell and made the long descent to Ivarstead, only to hear upon her arrival that Skyrim should have a new High King.

And a queen.

Without delay, Alessia retrieved her mare from the Vilemyr Inn's small stable and rode hard for Solitude. There were miles between Ivarstead and Solitude and in her heart of hearts Alessia knew it was hopeless, but she had to try all the same.

Riding day and night, she pushed her poor mare, charging past predators and bandits alike and stopping only when absolutely necessary. She arrived at Solitude by midmorning the following day, her horse blown and drenched with sweat. Gracefully Alessia leapt from her horse and bounded through the streets of Solitude, brusquely pushing past the crowds that blocked her path. The city was in a festive mood and many of the revellers had already had their fill of mead for the day. They warmly welcomed her, slowing her down. It made Alessia want to Shout them out of her way.

Banners and colours of Solitude and Windhelm flew proudly; flowers festooned anything that stood still. The bards from the college seemed to be everywhere providing music. The smell of food hung heavy in the air. Under different circumstances, Alessia would have probably joined in the celebrations and enjoyed herself greatly, but she was being driven on by desperation to put a stop to the proceedings.

Of course it never even occurred to her that she couldn't have stopped it no matter how much she wanted to.

Feeling as though she were in the middle of a fevered dream, Alessia followed the crowds to the large courtyard of Castle Dour where, due to the number of people, the marriage was being performed.

Alessia broke free from a group of Thanes, pushing them aside and ignoring their tutting at her terrible manners.

"Do you agree to be bound together in love now and forever?" the priest of Mara brightly asked.

There was a long pause before Elisif's reply came.

"I... I do," she said haltingly, looking more at the ground than at Ulfric.

The priest of Mara lifted his arms and triumphantly cried out, "Under the authority of Mara, the divine of love, I declare this couple to be wed!"

The words were a dagger in Alessia's heart.

All around her the crowd cheered and flowers were thrown down to carpet the path that the newlyweds would take as they moved to the Blue Palace for the wedding feast. Ulfric and Elisif stepped down from the plinth, led by the priest through the throng of people. Neither of them looked as if they were enjoying themselves. If anything, Alessia thought Elisif looked positively haggard and exhausted. There was a strained expression on the Jarl of Solitude's face and dark purple smudges beneath her eyes.

For brief moment, Ulfric's eyes met Alessia's and the look he gave her told her all that she needed to know.

This had not been Ulfric's choice.

Furiously wiping the tears from her eyes, Alessia forced herself to stop dwelling on things that had happened so long ago now and focus on the here and now. There was no changing it, no matter how much she wished she could. Besides, she had, by and large, learned to be happy with her lot.

Silently finishing her prayer, Alessia turned to leave but stopped short, not quite believing what she was seeing.

"You pray for me, Dovahkiin?" Ulfric asked her, breaking the long silence with a hushed rumble.

Alessia stood gaping at him for a moment, wondering how long he'd been there, before regaining her composure and nodding, "Yes, Ulfric. I pray for you often." She desperately wanted to add that thoughts of Ulfric came to her mind far more often than prayers for him crossed her lips.

With a purposeful stride, Ulfric went to the altar and picked up the gemstone that Alessia had placed on it, studying it much the same way she had done earlier. It was customary to leave a token that reminded the supplicant of what they were praying for. Ulfric was no fool and could easily make the connection. Placing it back on the altar, he said, "I often pray for you as well."

Turning to her, he stepped close and studied her face. There were now wrinkles where there had once been none. New scars mingled with those that had been there for Talos only knew how long. The corner of Ulfric's mouth quirked from amusement to find that the Dovahkiin now had a shock of grey hair happily nestling in the rich golden brown waves. Reaching up, he lightly curled it around a finger and ran it down the length of it.

Alessia fidgeted. She hadn't been this close to the Jarl since the night of passion they had shared over two years ago.

"It turned grey after..." she trailed off when Ulfric's finger strayed to her jaw, where it slowly traced along it before cupping her cheek with his callused hand. His thumb lightly stroked her cheek; he had forgotten just how soft her skin was.

It was a moment of bliss that sent a shiver down Alessia's spine. Every ounce of her being wanted to throw herself at Ulfric, but she knew she couldn't. Instead she reached up, her hand lightly curling around his wrist and shook her head.

"No, Ulfric," Alessia said and stepped back from him. "Our time is long past. You have a wife a-..."

"A wife in name only! A _wife_ who would rather see me _dead_!" Ulfric exclaimed with fury and frustration flashing in his eyes.

Alessia gave him a cool look and quietly finished, "You have a wife _as well as a son_ that you have a duty to."

Ulfric snorted, vehemently shook his head in disagreement and started pacing. Regarding the Dovahkiin with a fearsome glower, he shook an accusatory finger at her and snarled, "My first duty is to Skyrim!"

"Exactly," Alessia agreed. "Your priority must be Skyrim and what is best for her. But by doing what is best for Skyrim, you do what is best for them."

"I am lumbered with Elisif like a millstone around my neck dragging me down to the depths!" Ulfric spat back. "How can I do what is best for Skyrim when she still believes that we should have remained captive to the damned Empire and that we should have forsaken our gods to appease the Thalmor!?"

He ran a hand through his greying hair, tugging at it briefly before continuing. "I cannot trust her! Oh, yes, she sits in the Blue Palace, ruling over Solitude, but she is virtually a prisoner there. Her own guard, thanes, advisors - even the servants - were replaced by ones of my own choosing to ensure that she did not even entertain the idea that she might go behind my back or that she had no one to collaborate or sympathise with her."

Alessia quietly listened while Ulfric unburdened himself to her. It was something that had started back when she had been recovering from a severe injury she'd received at Korvanjund.

While retrieving the fabled Jagged Crown, a moment of distraction allowed a draugr to get the drop on her. An ancient rusted arrow pierced her armour and her side, but she had been determined to show Galmar and Ulfric what she was capable of. Choking back a groan of agony, she merely broke the arrow off and left the tomb.

By the time she'd arrived back at the Palace of the Kings, her tunic and underclothes were soaked through with blood and it trickled down her armour, leaving a trail of blood behind her. Falling to her knees, she presented Ulfric with the crown before blacking out. She had no clear memory of what had happened after that. There were hazy recollections, voices, nonsense really. An infection, pain, maids trying to care for her...

In the end, Alessia had pulled through but she had been left weak from it all and was in need of a long convalescence. Instead of being put on a cart and sent back to Whiterun, she was allowed to stay in Windhelm. It was during this time that she and Ulfric had truly become close.

They would wander the halls of the Palace of the Kings talking of tactics and what the outcome of the war might be when he had a free moment. Ulfric would tell Alessia stories of the Greybeards, whom she had yet to go visit at High Hrothgar. In fact, at this point she was still in denial about being the Dragonborn of legend and couldn't bring herself to mention it to Ulfric yet. He told her about his sisters and his parents, although some subjects such as the Great War were clearly not up for discussion.

Ulfric had fallen silent and sullen as he regarded Alessia who, sensing that the well had dried up, handed him a wineskin. He took a long drink from it, grimacing at the sourness of the wine before shaking his head ruefully.

"This was not how it was supposed to be."

Shooting Ulfric a bemused look, "And according to many, the Dragonborn should have been a Nord." Alessia took a swig of the wine before chuckling, "The will of gods and men rarely meet in the middle, Ulfric. You should know this by now."

Grunting in assent, he snatched the wine back from her, took another long draw from it before shoving it back into her hands and bitterly complaining, "By Shor's bones woman! Do you not have any mead on you instead of this swill!?"

"'This swill', I will have you know, is a rare vintage Surilie Brothers wine," Alessia sniffed and corked the wineskin again.

"Imperial wine always leaves a bitter taste in my mouth," Ulfric returned, doing his best to get under the Imperial's skin.

"How odd is it that mead seems to do the same to me!" she exclaimed. "Perhaps I should let you have this then."

From her knapsack Alessia produced a bottle of Black-Briar Reserve and presented it to Ulfric with a flourish.

A low chuckle rumbled in his chest as he took it from her, pulled the cork from the bottle with his teeth and drank deeply, savouring the notes of lavender hidden amongst the honey sweetness of the mead. Giving her a filthy grin, he said, "I don't remember you complaining that nig-..."

"No, Ulfric," Alessia firmly said, stopping him from saying something they'd both regret and bringing back memories that they would be better off forgetting.

And with that, the light-hearted moment was over and Ulfric was once more brooding about how things had turned out.

"I had no choice."

Alessia couldn't quite believe what she was hearing and she slowly turned her head to look at Ulfric. She had heard whispers that the other Jarls had met in secret to debate who should be the next High King or Queen long before the Moot had officially been called.

A bitter expression settled over Alessia's features, yet she chose not to speak. Instead she let him continue.

"In order to become High King, the Moot demanded I marry Elisif," Ulfric explained

"That's ridiculous," Alessia scoffed.

"They feared what the future might bring. 'What would happen should Elisif remarry and have children of her own? Would they seek revenge for what had happened?' they asked. All of them seemed convinced that a civil war lay dormant in the bitch's cold womb," Ulfric sneered, completely unrepentant that he was speaking of his own wife.

"What did Elisif say during all of this? Surely she didn't just sit there quietly. Besides, I was there, she swore fealty to you at Solitude. Was that not good enough for the Moot?" Alessia wondered aloud. She'd had dealings with Elisif before becoming too involved with the war and had found that although she looked meek and mild, she could let her displeasure be known.

"Oh, yes, Elisif was vehement in her disagreement with the other Jarls, but it was useless. They'd made their choice well before the moot had even met," Ulfric said bitterly. This was followed by another deep drink of the mead, which Ulfric savoured, enjoying how it warmed him through as it slid down his throat.

"I didn't want _her_," he mumbled, fixing Alessia with an intense look.

"Ulfric..." Alessia warned.

"I wanted you!" he barked, cutting her off. He took another drink of the mead and then sourly added, "The moot wouldn't have it."

Sighing, Alessia went over to the shrine sat down heavily in the snow, leaning her head back against the altar. Rubbing her temples, Alessia reluctantly asked, "Why?"

Ulfric let out a bitter laugh and said, "Those weak-necked bastards claimed that having both a High King and a Queen that could use the Thu'um was dangerous. It was too much power in one place."

Alessia shrugged. She could actually see sense in what had been said, but it was apparent to her that the Jarls misunderstood the Thu'um and what it was like to use it. If anything, Alessia had come to regard it as sacred, much as the Greybeards did. To abuse it would be an insult to Kynareth. Ulfric, however, had shown that he wasn't above using it for his own gain when he had killed Torygg. By doing that he'd damaged his own cause and cast a bigger shadow of doubt over his motivations.

"Surely you're not surprised that they objected?" she wearily asked. The cold was seeping further into her bones making her feel tired and achy. All she wanted about now was a warm fire, a nice meal and a comfortable bed and not to rehash how things had not turned out the way they had hoped for.

"It wasn't their place to object or interfere!" he growled. "They put me in an impossible position and left me with no choice!"

Again to hear him say that the matter was out of his hands was more than Alessia could take. Leaping to her feet, she shook her head and let out a broken laugh.

"You, Ulfric Stormcloak, had _no choice_? The very man who defied the Empire, the Dominion and _death itself _had _no choice_!? Please tell me how it is that someone who is obstinance personified did not have a choice, because from where I'm sitting, it sounds like an excuse!"

"An excuse!" Ulfric roared and rushed over to Alessia, firmly planting a large hand in the middle of her chest and pinning her to the wall of the alcove. "How dare you question me, Imperial! Tell me what choice I had!"

"You could have told them that you wouldn't accept the title!" Alessia panted, struggling to catch her breath with the weight of Ulfric's hand on her chest.

"And let Torygg's woman become High Queen? No, never! She would have delivered us all back into the hands of the Empire!" He said, still glowering at her menacingly.

Alessia grabbed his wrist and quietly asked, "Did you even fight for me?"

Some of the heat went out of his gaze when he could see the hurt that she'd been carrying with her plainly etched on her face.

"I did," he said emphatically. "But the Moot..."

"Wouldn't hear of it," Alessia finished for him. "Was there no compromise to be had?"

"No," he said and pressed his forehead to hers. "Elisif was the compromise."

Alessia's reached up and took his face in her hands, stroking the rough planes of his cheeks.

"Oh Ulfric," she whispered. "You so desperately wanted your Jagged Crown. Did you honestly think that there wouldn't be a price to pay?" Her thumbs smoothed over his forehead. "Did you think that it wouldn't weigh so heavy upon your brow?"

Ulfric's eyes closed while Alessia's fingers swept over his face. He wanted to remember this moment for the rest of his life because he was certain that he would most likely never see her again. Cradling her head in his massive hands, Ulfric leaned in and gave Alessia a deep kiss. At first he could feel her stiffen as if she were about to protest and push him away, but she soon relaxed and melted into him.

It was a kiss that was as fiery and bold as the two people who shared it. Eventually, however, Alessia and Ulfric parted and looked into each other's eyes. No words were exchanged, but none were needed; everything had already been said.

With that, Ulfric nodded farewell, turned and walked off into the night, never looking back as he went.

Alessia waited; a part of her hoped he'd return, but knew full well that he wouldn't. Smiling wistfully, she whispered a final wish for the High King.

"Talos guide you, Ulfric. May Talos always guide you."


End file.
